(via yourmothershouldknow)
See?! Women can dress! The grandmother blanket from hospice used as a scarf may be innovative, although a tad too much, but this bitch is a step in the right direction.

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About the author(s): MjH grew up in the suburbs of Encino, CA, born into a family of hilarious Jews. His mother, a witty New Yorker with a sharp tongue, set the bar pretty high in terms of what he looks for in a wife/Jewess/sport-fucking buddy. His father, a St. Louis cowboy at heart, reined him in as a child, only having to wash out his mouth with soap once during his early years.
Single, forever wearing glasses and on the hunt for Jewish cunt, our man finds himself thoroughly concerned with finding a wife, but more importantly, a bitch to lay with in the meantime.
Oh, and he wants me to tell you he he once schtupped a dame at DIVE! in Century City back in '01.
Copyright 2009-2010 BlackBerry Jew Squeeze
(via yourmothershouldknow)
See?! Women can dress! The grandmother blanket from hospice used as a scarf may be innovative, although a tad too much, but this bitch is a step in the right direction.
I will eat you so!
{Miss you, Boston to LA to NYCer}
I want your legs wrapped around my head, on my bed, with the patio doors open, the Gorillaz blasting, and the spliffs burning on the nightstand.
Come home.
Anthony Papallardo in NYC CIRCLE BOARD Skate video.
Enjoy.
Hey New York! How’s the frigid bitch weather? Oh, you mean you don’t want to go to Papaya King in this humid Winter you’re having?
What do you mean nobody visits the MoMa, the Chrysler Building, or The Vampire State Building due to the inclement weather?
Just remember one thing when you are talking about how fucking radical your (read: NEW YORK) city is: you have to wait 9 months for warm (read: putridly, stinkin’ hot) weather. Meanwhile, I’m skinny-dipping with Bar Rafaeli in February. Just laughin’ at ya’all. I don’t care how many bike messengers sell weed. Call me old fashioned, but like Sanka Coffee, I like getting my weed mano-a-mano: from the man. I don’t mind waitin’ for him either. Also, my weed is much better and doesn’t come in a stupid plastic see-through box that isn’t really an eighth. Eighth = 3.5 grams.
Lemme know when the line shortens up at Shake Shack. I wanna titmilkshake a bitch.
(Author’s Note: Cool Runnings is way better than the Olympics)